The World Is Waiting
by tushmonkey
Summary: I live a quiet life. Literally. I'm deaf. But in a world where all people talk about is the money in your pockets and what brand name clothing you're holding that money in, I don't find being deaf to be a problem. And now that my cousin and his friends want me to be apart of Ouran Academy's Host Club, it couldn't feel more like a blessing in disguise. MorixOC.
1. The Calm Before The Storm

I sit in the waiting area with the other performers. Considering my last name, I'll go on somewhere near the end. So much waiting, so much watching.

And even though this music hall was renowned for its talented performers and rich founders, these chairs could not be any more cheap and uncomfortable. My face scrunches as I fidget to find a decent position.

My parents, who had been chatting up the other parents and dawdling administrators, stroll up to me out of the blue. Or maybe they were there all along and I just hadn't heard them.

"Are you nervous, sweetheart?" my mother signs.

I smile slightly. "Just bad chairs," I sign back.

Her shoulders shake with laughter and my father grins. "I would be surprised if you were, Suzume. You've got nerves of steel, don't you?"

I shrug it off, and he pats my head in response. Mother glances over her shoulder quickly and turns back to me, signing, "The other parents are beginning to leave to the audience area. Will you be fine on your own?"

I nod. Still, I can see the reluctance to leave flash in those emerald eyes of hers. The same ones I have.

I open my mouth to reassure her, but Father beats me to it, saying something along the lines of: "Suzume said she's fine. We have to believe her."

Without my father, who knows what kind of worrying mess my mother would be. As he escorts her out she shoots me a concerned look. I return it with a reassuring smile and wave.

Contestant after contestant waddle out the doors leading to the wings within minutes. After about three have gone and come back with buckling knees or fumbling hands, I take that as a sign to go put in my hearing aid. I grab my cello out from under the seat and head to the bathroom.

It doesn't take long to fit it inside my right ear and set it to full sound.

I study myself in the mirror. The only problem I can find are the bags under my eyes. We had just arrived in Japan from America hours ago, and it was not settling well with my sleeping schedule at all.

I pluck my cello from against the wall and push past the door.

Even with my hearing aid in, the room is just as silent as when I couldn't hear anything. The only difference is the echo of music flooding in from the stage.

Now I wait. There weren't too many of us to start with but now there are only four left, myself included. I take in the other contestants' pieces as easily as oxygen. I can spot their mistakes—a missing chord, the wrong note. They must be incredibly nervous.

Perhaps I should be, too. But I love playing too much to let nerves get to me. And it doesn't matter if I place well enough to win a scholarship to Ouran. I would still be attending despite it. Unlike some of the other candidates, my family has the money to do so.

I only entered because I thought it would be nice to work for something instead of having it given to me because of my name.

"Contestant #9, Ootori Suzume, please come to the stage," a man calls over the intercom.

I walk to the wings, cello in hand, and across the stage. I bow to the observing administrators and spot my mother waving crazily in the crowd, and my father trying to calm her down with little luck.

I sit, smiling to myself, and begin to play.

**—Two Months Later—**

Mother puckers her lips as she stares at my uniform. "Does it really have to be such a God awful color?"

I yawn as she tugs at the skirt. It's too early to be awake, let alone going to school.

Mother asks, "Are you sure you don't want to go to Lobelia?"

I laugh and reply, "Just because of the uniform?"

"Do you actually like it?" Her eyes bulge.

"Of course not. But I'm not going to switch schools because of it."

"I would. Plus, you would _love _Lobelia! I went there, you know?"

We've had this conversation a million times and I'm not even surprised that we're having it again. Mother had taken it a bit personally when I chose Ouran, my father's school, over Lobelia Girls' Academy.

Time and time again I explain to her that I only chose Ouran because its music program is slightly better compared to Lobelia's, but it just doesn't seem to stick with her. She always comes back around to the same phrase:

"_You're just attending Ouran because of the cute boys, aren't you?"_

I know she's joking whenever that runs from her mouth, but I could read her like the back of my hand. I know somewhere deep down it's a true curiosity of hers.

"I know you did, Mother. But it has already been decided, unless you want to phone Father and explain to him that you're pulling me out before the year's even started."

She slouches, knowing I'm right, and leads me to the black Mercedes parked out front. When Kenta, the family chauffer, spots us he trudges up to me and takes my cello and backpack from my hands. I nod at him and he nods back, then goes to put it in the car's trunk.

"Now listen," Mother says, turning me back to her. "According to your father, you're going to be in the same class as your cousin, Kyoya. You remember him, don't you?"

Vaguely. I assume he looks like everyone else who's born into the Ootori family—black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. The name does ring some bells, so I've probably seen him at parties or heard about some wonderful feat he managed to accomplish. But since I don't remember him, I can't imagine we were ever close.

_Ha. Like anyone in this family is._

"He already knows you're here. Keep close to him, so he can keep an eye on you."

In other words: _"He already knows you're here. Cling onto him like a helpless puppy so I don't have to claw my face off worrying about you even though I'm going to worry about you no matter what you do."_

I give my best smile and say, "Yes, Mother."

She pets my head gently and pushes strands behind my ear. It would seem loving and affectionate to anyone else, but she's pulled this trick a thousand times. I sigh as she pulls my hair back into place.

"Don't sigh at me," she wiggles a finger. "I know how much you hate wearing it, so sue me for making sure you are. One of your uncles made that hearing aid especially for you. It's top of the line, and do you know how upset they'll be to hear that you're not putting it to use?"

Meaning: _"It's top of the line, and do you know how much crap your father will get if the rest of the family hears any nonsense of his deaf daughter refusing to use a device we got for free?"_

I know she doesn't really mean for me to interpret her this way, that what she says is what she honestly means, but I know our family. And I'm well aware of how they view my parents and I, specifically.

My father isn't of the main Ootori branch, meaning anything he inherits won't be nearly as monumental as what he would if he was. It doesn't bother him much, he says he'd rather not have to deal with all that responsibility, but I'm not sure if that's just what he says because he really means it or if it's just a truth he's accepted because he knows it'll never happen.

Because that's all every one of my relatives care about. Mostly money, then the success of one company's head compared to the next, and finally how successful each company's heir is compared to the next. Everything is a competition, and only if you can afford to run the race.

"Promise me you'll keep it in like you're supposed to?"

I nod and she wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace. "Enjoy your first day, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too."

She shoos me away afterward, excitement clear as day, and waves. "I should be home by the time you get back!"

Kenta opens the car door with a tiny grin, knowing how embarrassed I get when she does stuff like that, and offers, "Relax, young miss. You'll be fine."

I smile, "Of course. What could possibly go wrong."

It was not a question at all and Kenta knows it very well. If I were to say something like that to my mother she would frown and scold me, but Kenta only grins wider. He shuts the door with that and goes to start the engine.

**—**

The only reaction I have when I arrive before the school is to sigh. Who makes a school pink? Not that I have anything personal against pink but really? Pink…for a school?

Even Kenta gives it a second look before handing me my things.

"There's your schedule, a map of the school, all your textbooks, and a phone placed inside."

"Does the phone already my parents' numbers in it?" Kenta nods. "And yours?"

Kenta's my favorite among our serving staff. He's been with us since forever and treats me as an equal, compared to the doting and squealing maids that roam our house.

Plus, I like how contradicting his appearance is to his job. No one would ever expect a burly man of his stature to drive a car for a living. Professional kickboxing, maybe.

He smiles at the question. "Of course, young miss. I shall be here ten minutes before clubs end to drive you home. Is there anything else before I go?"

I shake my head no. "Have a nice day, Kenta."

He bows until I start toward the school. There aren't too many students here yet and I glance at a grandfather clock over in a corner. 7:25 AM. The opening ceremony doesn't begin until 8 AM.

I flip the bag open and find the map first thing. I locate the music room on the third level and head towards it. It takes a while to figure out exactly how to get to the room, but I manage soon enough.

Though the room doesn't look as I would imagine it to, this is Ouran—maybe all their rooms are this extravagant. I dislike the idea of leaving my cello unwatched for so long but there was no way I'd be lugging it with me all day, so all I can do is lay it in a corner and exit swiftly through the door.

From the map, I note that the auditorium is back on the first level and descend the flights of stairs to it. When I arrive inside, I see a large amount of students have already filed in. The clock over the stage reads 7:50 AM. I give a sigh of relief; I may not care about appearances but I don't want start the year by being late.

I find the seat marked with my name and sit. Oh, the joys of waiting are endless.

"Suzume, correct?"

I look to my side. The chair had previously been empty, so I don't know when he came to occupy it. Then again, the seat is on my left—the ear I'm completely deaf in.

His steel eyes bore into me as he holds out a hand. "I'm your cousin, Kyoya."

He has the same glint in his eyes that all the members of our family do. His smile isn't as double-sided as I thought it'd be, at least. I swallow down my wariness and shake is hand gently.

"A pleasure to see you again."

* * *

**So I rewatched Ouran and had this idea stuck in my head for two days and finally gave in. I wrote it but what's the point of that if it isn't going to be shared? And here were are now! So if it looks like you guys are giving this a warm welcome I'll keep updating, otherwise I might just scrap it.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading~!**

**TTFN**


	2. It's Raining Idiots And Fangirls

**To answer some questions/concerns in Reviews:**

**FairyTailGirl2: While I agree I would rather have Suzume without it, the hearing aid is necessary because I doubt all the rich bastards (to quote Haruhi) at Ouran know how to sign so it wouldn't progress the story much.**

**Guest #1: I've only read some Mori fanfics (and they weren't around handicapped protagonists) so I wouldn't know if deaf characters are popular, but heck to the yeah if they are!**

**Guest#2: No, she knows how to talk **_**and **_**sign, as do her parents (who aren't deaf). They sign most of the time, but use both interchangeably.**

* * *

I glance away from my hands and up to Kyoya about halfway through the ceremony, and notice his head bobbing periodically. _And I thought I wasn't a morning person._

I realize after a minute's observation just exactly who he is. I didn't quite remember him, even when he introduced himself, but now I see it. He's _that _Kyoya—the youngest of three sons. A genius, of course, but overshadowed by his brothers' success, meaning he has to try the hardest of all to be noticed.

He's from the main branch.

"Something wrong?"

I flinch at the sound of his voice. The same bored look stares me down. I shake my head and face the stage.

The ceremony goes on for another fifteen minutes and then we're released to head to our assigned homerooms.

"You may as well follow me since we're in the same homeroom, but you're free to do whatever you wish," Kyoya says as he scribbles in a black folder.

_I don't know anyone else so it looks like you win by default._

"Kyoya~!"

At the sound of this Kyoya snaps the folder shut and his glasses flash over. Before I can even look at who it is, a blond just as tall as him clings on to his body like a monkey.

"Oh Kyoya! I've missed you so! Daddy hasn't seen you in forever, Mommy~!"

Unlike Kyoya's polished, deep tone, his friend's voice is higher. Not to the point where he sounds like a girl, just cheerful. And loud.

"Tamaki, I saw you three days ago," Kyoya says with a sigh. "Now let go."

Tamaki does as he commands, a wide grin settling on his handsome face. He glances to me abruptly and instantly goes on one knee, grabbing my hand in his. A gust of rose petals picks up just as his lips brush against my skin.

"I've never seen a beauty such as yourself around here before. Please do me the honor of knowing your name, my sweet cherry blossom?"

I frown immediately; girls around us squeal with joy, some are close to fainting. Basically, it's annoying. And nothing I'd be in the mood for even if it wasn't so early in the morning.

"This is Suzume, my cousin," Kyoya says in my place. He turns from him to me. "This is Suoh Tamaki. He'll be in class with us."

Oh. He's the chairman's son I heard a bit about—came from France in order to be the company's heir, which is a once in a lifetime chance considering he's illegitimate.

Tamaki's princely act falters before I can force my hand from his. He turns to Kyoya and whines, "Why have I never seen her?! Have you been hiding her away from me this entire time?! I never knew you could be so caring, Mommy~!"

His childish spiel morphs into appraisal somewhere along the way. Kyoya seems well accustomed to his actions, while I on the other hand am at a mixture of confusion and annoyance. It doesn't help that a crowd is beginning to form around us.

"She's Kyoya's cousin?"

"Yeah, I heard she won a full music scholarship."

"Wow, she's just as beautiful as Kyoya-san!"

"Hey, you think she's my type?"

I turn toward the huddle at my right. At first they blush madly and scream just like they did to Tamaki, but as I keep my eyes on them they slowly start to slink away, shoulders trembling and spewing apologies for looking at me.

I'm not sure what that was all about, but it's relieving that my annoyance is receding with the crowd. When I look back at Kyoya, I notice he's writing in his book again.

_I wonder what it is—a diary maybe? Well since he's a boy, he'll probably say it's a "journal"._

His glasses flash as he looks at me. Not knowing what emotion it is that lies behind those lenses sends a shiver down my spine.

Kyoya puts the book away (I have no clue where) and treads up the stairs. I follow him, seeing as there's nothing else for me to do, and hear Tamaki bidding farewell to his fangirls as he tries to catch up to us.

"So, Suzume, where _has _my dear Kyoya been keeping you all this time?" Tamaki asks.

I glance up at him to see a sincere smile on his face this time. His violet eyes show even more honest interest. I don't want to make an opinion on him so quickly, but even with a smile so friendly, I get the feeling he's a tad troublesome. What conspired minutes ago was probably just a taste of the usual chaos.

"She's been in the United States for the past six years. Her father served as one of the head doctors for our medical unit stationed there," Kyoya informs for me.

"Oh, I see." Tamaki nods, but then his cheeks puff into a pout. "You know, Kyoya, I was sorta hoping to have Suzume tell me, not you."

Kyoya stops staring down the hall to glance at me, then says to Tamaki: "I get the feeling she won't be talking to you anytime soon, what with the big scene you caused earlier."

That catches me by surprise, but then I smile. Ootoris are known for knowing everything, and it shouldn't be a shock at all that he can read me by a simple glance.

Tamaki starts bawling his eyes out immediately, and I hear Kyoya mumble, "You're not helping your cause at all." It only makes him cry harder.

We finally come to our homeroom, Room 2A, and I find that just like in the auditorium the seats are already alphabetized. My seat is behind Kyoya's; Tamaki sits beside him.

"Look at us," Tamaki gushes, "we're like The Three Musketeers."

_I wonder if he always jumps from emotion to emotion like this. It's pretty concerning. I hope he isn't bipolar._

The girls in our class cluster around the two within nanoseconds of entering the room. I reach behind my ear and turn off my hearing aid. If I knew attending school would be this noisy I would've never asked to stop being home schooled.

Well, I hadn't really asked. I just brought the idea up one night at dinner and, my parents being my parents, took it way more serious than I had intended. Sure I was curious about how different the learning experience would be in clothes other than pajamas and not having a teacher for every subject come to my door but who wouldn't be when that's all you've known your entire life?

I also know how excited my parents were to hear that I wanted to try attending school. Once they got past the initial worrying thoughts, they were pumped. Mother is always talking about being more social, since our status calls for it, but I know she doesn't like forcing me to do things I don't want to do. She has a knack for pushing the line, but never stepping over it.

Father's a bit less intense than she is (his intensity is about 30% to her 70%). His parenting style is like a sideline observer who sneaks in at the last second to bring up points my mother misses when she gets on a roll. It's that famous Ootori blood running through his veins that makes him this way, according to her.

A meter stick smacks down on my desk and I let out a gasp in response. My eyes trail up from the stick to see the first hour's sensei glaring down at me.

"Ootori Suzume?"

It's not only her eyes that stare at me, but the entire room of students, too. From this angle I can't see Kyoya's face but Tamaki's eyes sparkle with concern.

I turn my hearing aid back on. "Yes, Sensei?"

"Are you here or are you absent?" She grinds her teeth together at the end.

Great, just what I want on my first day. I wasn't tardy, but it looks like I've got a teacher despising my existence instead. Go me.

"I'm here, Sensei."

One of the boys closer to the front of the room says, "Sensei, you probably shouldn't do that. She's—"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT KIND OF BLUE BLOOD RUNS THROUGH HER VEINS," her voice blares at him. She turns back to me with tick marks smothering her forehead. "When I ask you a question, young lady, I expect an answer. And I expect you to pay attention in my class, regardless of how tired you are or what's outside the window."

"Of course, Sensei. I just couldn't hear you."

"No." She peers down her nose at me. "What I think you mean to say is that you _weren't listening_."

I can tell she's calming down so I don't bother to correct her. Not until I catch a glimpse of the boy up front. He competed for the scholarship just like me. I know he entered with the violin but he's a nameless face. A face that also looks like he's about to wet his pants.

He was going to defend me for no reason, and this teacher seems like one who hands out detentions just for coughing. She's already headed toward his desk, in fact.

The last thing I want is trouble, but I'd rather suffer on my own than drag him along with me.

"No, Sensei. I meant what I said."

She freezes in her tracks at my voice. Her small body trudges back to my desk in a streak of lightning.

"WHAT." The tick marks have increased ten fold, but it doesn't bother me.

"I said that I couldn't hear you, and that's what I meant." I draw the hair on my right side behind my ear and point to my hearing aid. "See, I didn't have my hearing aid turned on. I wasn't aware the bell had rang. My apologies, Sensei."

The realization hits her like an uppercut to the jaw. I can practically see her shrink in size. "O-oh. I… I wasn't aware that you were… were… um…"

I tell her with a straight face, "Deaf. It's not that hard to pronounce, Sensei. And now you know for future reference."

"Yes… I'll… I'll remember that," she mutters as she stumbles back up the aisle.

The entire class is whispering by now, though no one whispers a thing to me.

—

"Seems like you've got a fanbase now," Kyoya comments. A tiny smirk graces his porcelain face and he whips out the book for the umpteenth time today. "It's only lunchtime and you've already managed to cause quite the uproar among the students, possibly staff too."

I sigh, and swirl some pasta up on my fork but ultimately leave it on the plate. All this attention and fuss over this morning is making me lose my appetite. _None of this is going like I wanted it to. I was supposed to blend in, not stand out._

"So that entire time I was trying to talk to you," Tamaki says, stroking his chin, "the reason you weren't answering was because you couldn't here me, right?"

"She was ignoring you," Kyoya shares without a moment's hesitation.

I get the idea Kyoya kind of enjoys being the bearer of bad news. Or at least toward Tamaki, because he's been a saint to everyone else all day.

He's also been pretty nice to me, though I can tell it's just toleration for my presence. There isn't anything to gain, but I've also done nothing to irk him so far—our relationship is at an indifferent equilibrium. Hopefully, it'll stay that way.

Tamaki faceplants out of his chair, which of course gets his fans up and running. "Mommy, why would you say such a thing to Daddy? You're so cruel!"

"I'm being honest, not cruel," he responds. His eyes meet mine before he picks at his caviar. "And I'm assuming your hearing aid isn't on right now, is it?"

_With all these girls going giddy over you two, of course not. I'd rather sit in silence than with squawking that horrid._

Tamaki's recovered and a look of amazement brightens his eyes. "Wait. Does that mean you can read lips?" I nod, smiling slightly. He deflates instantly. "Which means you really were ignoring me~!"

"Not ignoring," I say as I get up. "I just don't have anything to say to you."

I dump the rest of my lunch in the trash and place the tray on the counter. I head for the library down the hall next. It's not nearly as crowded as the cafeteria. I find a table in the corner and lay my head down.

—

The end of the day has finally come and, with it, a strange grogginess that only worsens my mood. Initially, I was going to stay to check out the music club but all I want to do now is go to bed.

Someone taps me on the shoulder as I shove my books in my bag. I turn to see Tamaki and as I look him in the eye, he pales almost immediately.

I wait for him to say something but the cat seems to have to got his tongue. "Yes?"

"You've got quite the pair of eyes," he chuckles, shaking off whatever feeling he had before. He continues when I don't respond: "I was wondering if you'd accompany Kyoya and I to the Host Club today? A budding blossom like yourself would thrive among our many members."

I have no clue what he's babbling about, and I'm not interested enough to find out. I came to school to play and that's all I intend to do. "No thank you."

He goes in to another one of his dramatic shocks. "But but but but but but…"

Kyoya butts in sooner or later, wishes me a good evening, and drags Tamaki out of the room still blubbering.

I text Kenta and ask him to pick me up, then go to the front of the school to wait for him. After about twenty minutes our car rounds the corner and he gets out to hold the door open for me as usual, but gives me a questioning look when I come near.

"What is it?"

He glances at my hands. "Your cello, young miss."

I almost have a heart attack. Almost.

_HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID? HOW COULD I LEAVE MY CHILD BEHIND?_

I reenter through the enormous doors, bound down the corridor and skip up steps to get to the music room I left it in. I slam the doors open with both hands.

A cool breeze passes by, bringing red rose petals and a nauseously sweet scent with it.

* * *

**Am I evil for ending it there? Probably. Guess you'll just have to wait to find out what happens!**

**A big fat thank you goes out to everyone who read the first chapter, let alone if you reviewed/faved/followed~! You little nuggets have my heart.**

**TTFN**


	3. Right-Brain Drained

The rose petals fall in midair and the sweet scent turns stale as a room full of girls and about six boys stare back at me. Eventually, my eyes steady on Tamaki.

"It's good to see you changed your mind~!" he yells as he races toward me. "That was quite the entrance. It was definitely worth a round of applause, don't you agree everyone?"

Everyone begins to clap like mindless drones controlled by Tamaki's remote. Two other boys take the initiative to come beside us.

"Who is this, Tono?" asks the pair of twins, eyeing me from both sides.

"This is Suzume, Kyoya's cousin I was telling you guys about."

One twin starts, "So you're the Ootori girl—"

"—Everyone's been talking about all day," the other finishes.

I glance at each of them, then at the corner where I remember leaving my cello. I inhale sharply and stomp past the three to get to it.

_Why isn't it here? I left it here, I know I did. WHO TOOK MY CHILD._

I touch the floor and walls, thinking maybe it just randomly turned invisible. That's possible, right? But no, it's gone.

I turn back toward them. "Where is it?"

Tamaki and the twins straighten up and, for whatever reason, can't will their mouths to speak. Kyoya steps from wherever he was in the room with my cello case in his arms.

"I'm assuming you're talking about this," he says as he holds it out. "I noticed it when we started setting up."

I give a sigh of relief and nod. "Thank you, Kyoya."

Though it feels like it's heavy enough to be my cello, I set the case down and open it just to be sure; I don't know these people, what kind of mother would I be to trust my baby in the hands of strangers?

I ignore everyone peeking over my shoulders by searching for any possible nicks and cuts on the wood.

"So you didn't come for the Host Club…" Tamaki gathers while squatting in front of me, "…you just forgot that…?" He perks up suddenly and I see curiosity glisten in his eyes. "Is that a cello?"

I answer with a nod.

Tamaki whines at Kyoya: "Why didn't you tell me she was a cellist?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Well… Because we're both musicians! That makes us family~!"

"You do know that the piano and cello are in two completely separate instrumental families, right?"

Tamaki gives a confident toss of his bangs, and ignores the statement by turning back to me. "I have a wonderful idea! Why don't you play for us? I'm sure a star that shines as bright—"

"No." I put my cello away and stand. I walk to the door but Tamaki latches his hand onto mine.

"It's okay. There's no need to be shy—"

"Do you not understand Japanese?" I ask louder than my normal tone, staring him straight in the eye. "Do I need to sign it for you? I said no, and I meant no. Let. Me. Go."

That gets him, and probably everyone else in earshot. In his utter shock and despair, Tamaki does as I say.

Before I pull on the doorknob I tell him, "Enjoy your club."

I don't mean for it to sound as snarky as it does, but at this point I'm too tired to care. If it hurts his feelings, then I'll apologize tomorrow. Today—right now—I just need to guzzle an entire bottle of aspirin.

—

I blink a few times. Then I sit up and gradually gather that I'm in my bed, in my room. Though I have absolutely no clue how I got here.

Aoi and Neko, our Siberian huskies, rest at my feet and don't even twitch when I get up. They were initially supposed to be guard dogs, up until my mother fed them so much they only bother to move if they smell or see food. So I'm not too sure why they're in here, but I scratch their fluffy little heads anyway.

I slide open the door that connects my bedroom to my bathroom. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror is a mess—my hair is half in a bun, half down my back in a knotted heap; there's dried drool on my cheek; I'm still wearing this stupid school uniform.

_Ah yes. I am the epitome of beauty and grace. Who wouldn't want to date this?_

I pop out my hearing aid, strip, and take a quick shower. I dry my hair with a towel and comb through it a few times. After changing into pajamas, I leave my room.

The cherry wood floors are cold under my bare feet. I pass by the windows and spot the moon way up in the night sky, illuminating the rippling water in the pond.

I eventually make it to the kitchen. I slide the door open and find my father behind it. Judging by his messy hair and loosened tie, I'd say he just got home from work.

"There's my little birdie," he signs when he looks up from his plate. "Your dinner is in the oven."

I nod and walk over to it. I pump my fist in the air when I see it's my favorite, grilled mackerel. I sit down beside Father at the island.

"Save any lives today?" I sign.

"Two. A boy with a collapsed lung and a kidney transplant."

"Impressive. No wonder they pay you the big bucks."

He grins. "How was your first day?"

When I pull my chopsticks apart, they break unevenly. I lean my head back and exhale loudly.

"That bad, huh?"

I chew on a mouthful of fish and sign, "Not bad. Just…different. Very different."

"You gave your mother quite a scare, you know? Kenta had to bring you in from the car and she thought something bad happened."

_That would explain why I was still in my uniform. _"I should go say something to her. Is she still awake?"

He shakes his head no. "Was school really that tiring?"

"School itself wasn't a problem. It's the people at school that tire me out."

His eyebrows narrow over his grey eyes. It is only when he does this that my father looks like he means business. Otherwise he looks exactly how he is—a tall, lanky, nerdy…nerd.

"They didn't bully you, did they?"

I shake my head no and watch his face relax. "I just don't like the way they look at me. I don't know if it's because I'm an Ootori or because I'm deaf but I don't like it either way. Plus, they're so loud. It's aggravating."

"Well, we all knew getting into this that something like that would happen. I'm sure it'll ware off after the first week or so. But if it bothers you that much, you know you can go back to being home schooled any time you want."

I stare down at the table and say aloud, "But isn't that giving up? Isn't that admitting that I can't handle this, and proving everyone we know right—that I'm just some helpless deaf girl?

"I may not like Ouran now but I'll get through it. I don't want to give up. I want to prove everyone wrong, and shove those wrong opinions in their faces. Not to mention, it would be a waste of the scholarship I won. That wouldn't be fair to the other people who competed for it—it'd be like saying I didn't want it to begin with."

My gaze had gradually wandered up to the ceiling as I thought it all out, and when I look to my father, he's ever so dramatically sobbing his eyes out.

"Oh, birdie, that was so moving~! I've never been so proud to be a parent in my life! You deserve an Oscar for that performance! It was truly—"

I raise a hand to his shoulder. "Pipe down. You're going to wake the entire neighborhood making a ruckus like that."

I'm only guessing he's being loud since I can't actually hear him.

"Oh. Right." He nods. "It is night time. People are sleeping."

_Seems I guessed right. _"Just like you should be."

"Eh, I think I'm going to stay up a bit longer." He motions his hand in a way that looks like he's clearing his throat, then adds with a smile, "But I'm glad you're handling things this way, Suzume. It's very mature of you to do so and I'm proud of you for it."

I can only smile in response as he takes our empty plates and puts them in the dishwasher. After, he opens the freezer and rummages through the contents expectantly. About two minutes pass by before he shuts the door and slinks over to me with a lifeless expression on his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Your mother… She threw away all my ice cream."

"I guess your secret stash wasn't so secret after all."

—

With my map in hand, I search for the main office and locate it not too far from the stairs on the first level. I walk up to the desk and stand before a portly woman typing away at her keyboard.

"How may I help you?" her mousy voice asks.

I raise my cello for her to see. "I was wondering where I can put this?"

She glances away from her screen for a second, then continues typing. "You should have already put it in your assigned instrumental class."

My eyebrows knit together. _What classes did I go to yesterday? _"I don't think I have an instrumental class. Unless you mean Classical Theory or Music in History."

"No, I mean an instrumental class. And those are classes assigned to students on scholarship—are you on scholarship?"

"…Yes."

"Then that explains it." She looks up at me with a grin on her cherry red lips. "You're too good to play in the instrumental classes we provide here."

She means it in the best way possible. It's supposed to be an uplifting statement, one that should make me proud of myself. But if that's true, why do I feel disappointed? Why do I feel a piece of my heart fall into my stomach? Why does this sound like bad news instead of the greatest thing in the universe?

I want to make sure I hear her right so I repeat, "Too good?"

"Yes. Considering that the majority of the students enrolled here are eventually going to be company presidents and doctors and lawyers, our arts programs tend to lean toward beginners or intermediate learners. Since you're on scholarship, your skills surpass the bar we set for those classes."

Translation: _"No one takes music _that_ seriously. Students here only see it as a hobby or a good skill to have for show."_

It feels like another arrow to the knee. I was limping before but now I'm crippled.

"So I… I don't get to play?"

"Sure you can. There's a recital at the end of every semester that you're eligible for along with the other scholarship winners. But the reason you aren't signed up for any instrumental courses is because you would just be learning things you already know. What needs to be challenged is your left-brain—math, science, history, etcetera."

"I… I was unaware of that."

She's oblivious to the impact of every word. She just smiles away, then eyes my cello again. "I can keep it here if you want. Just come back at the end of the day for it."

I hoist the case over the desk and she slides it under. "Will that be all?"

"Um, well when does the music club meet?"

"The music club doesn't begin until second semester. Will that be all?"

_This can't be happening. This can't be real. I'm still at home, sleeping in my bed. This is a nightmare. My worst nightmare ever._

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Thank you."

I make a beeline for my homeroom and sit in my desk a minute before the bell rings. I take out a pencil and the workbook assigned for the first hour. A balding, thin man walks through the door and stands at the front desk.

_Shit. I must have wandered into the wrong class._

But my gaze settles directly before me; pretty sure that's Kyoya's head. Then I look on my left at Tamaki's gold locks. The man at the front writes his name on the board—Sensei Maki—and begins taking attendance, which my name is definitely on.

Someone in the middle of the room raises their hand when he's finished. "Where's Himura-san?"

"Himura-san has taken a leave of absence. I will be your first hour sensei for the rest of the year."

My mouth hangs open, and nearly everyone turns around to look at me.

—

I meet the eyes of students at a couple of tables, then decide it'd just be easier to stare down at my lunch.

"A pretty girl like yourself should never wear a frown so melancholic," Tamaki hums from across the table.

I glance at him and he automatically shields himself behind Kyoya, who couldn't look any more bored if he tried. "Do you really think I got Himura-san _fired_?" I ask the duo quietly. "Isn't a leave of absence like a vacation?"

"That's just how they word it to students," Kyoya informs, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "And technically it was her own fault. She had two strikes already, and you just happened to be the last."

_He says it like it's nothing, like she's not even a person. Maybe this was her only source of income. Maybe she has a family. What if one of her relatives is in the hospital? What if she's trying to put her kids through college?_

_What if I ruined that woman's life?_

I utter, "I still feel bad."

"Feeling bad won't get her back on the staff, not that she should be. High-strung, impacient, aggressive—it's a miracle she got a job here to begin with. She should have thought about what her actions would cost her." He scoots his chair from under the table and stands. "I will see you both in class. I have some studying to attend to."

Tamaki doesn't voice it but he obviously is scared to be left alone with me. He's been glancing at me all day, trying to get me to look at him and when I do, he turns away like a skittish child. He tries masking his discomfort with his signature, charming smile but when it has no effect on me he loses all confidence and starts emitting a purple aura around his spot at the table. There may even be fungus growing around his plate as well.

Is he trying to make me feel bad? I can't tell if it's that or he's actually sulking. Whatever, I don't really want to know.

What should I say to him about yesterday? I said I would apologize but what exactly would I be apologizing for? The only mistake I made was leaving my cello in an abandoned music room full of attention-starved weirdoes. He was the one who grabbed me. He was the one who didn't know how to take no for an answer.

But for some reason unbeknownst to me I mumble, "I can play for you."

_No no no. What. What did I just do?_

That relieves him of the aura and mushrooms in a snap. "Really~? Was it my dashing good looks that convinced you? Or was it my captivatingly handsome smile? No, it had to be…"

I tune him out then. How could I retract my offer? Why had I made it in the first place? I'm certainly not like the rest of these girls who throw themselves at him. He's nice, sure, but his personality is overbearing. Overbearing to the point where it feels intrusive.

…_You're too good to play in the instrumental classes we provide here…_

Was that why I offered? Because I couldn't play today or tomorrow or up until the end of semester recital? I can't play at school but I'm recognized for it. That's good. That's easier, isn't it? I can focus on learning; this school is obviously based on preparing its students with knowledge on a vast amount of subjects.

So why did I need to play so badly that I would offer to play for him? Nothing would stop me from playing at home. Why did I so desperately need to play _here_? What is here that I don't possess under the luxuries of my own roof?

"Suzume? Is everything alright?" Tamaki's face leans in curiously.

"On one condition. I'll play on one condition," I sigh. Tamaki's head bobbles excitedly. "Be yourself. That prince charming act isn't really to my liking, as you've seen. You're yourself around Kyoya. Be yourself around me, too."

_I'd rather a whiny, spoiled child over a phony prince any day._

He takes a moment to blink off his astonishment, but smiles as giddy as a child afterward. Or as himself, since he seems to have the mentality of a 7 year-old.

—

I pull on the handle and push open the door. A crash echoes out into the hall. The seven boys in the room turn to me.

"Is this…a bad time?"

"Not at all," Kyoya says, then turns his head back to the boy who broke the vase. "That'll cost you eight million yen, by the way."

"Eight…million…yen…?"

* * *

***goes to school for the first time ever* What could go wrong? *gets teacher fired* *doesn't get to do the one thing she wanted to come to school for* Oh everything that's what.**

**Sorry for having cliffhangers back to back. It was in no way intentional. It's just that so far the story is turning out very continuously and day-to-day like, which will not always be the case trust me. I have to stop it before it gets too long and it's always during the club time so…**

**And also if you were disappointed that Suzume didn't meet that gentle giant yet that's next chapter~. She's a very focused person, and at the time she was too concerned with getting back her cello to even think about people she doesn't know and the Host Club's activities.**

**If you're wondering what that office lady was talking about with the "challenging the left-brain", it's referring to the theory that the left portion of your brain controls logic and thinking, while the right side of the brain controls creative tasks like music and art.**

**Just a little fun fact for your day! Thanks for all the support y'all ^.^**

**TTFN**


	4. So Much Depends Upon A Slice Of Cake

**SakuraSunset68: Intriguing is the type of response I aim for. I'm glad I'm delivering on both the comedic and serious side of events, and I hope to continue in that direction.**

**aaa17: I'm proud you see this fanfic as follow-worthy! She's paired with Mori, who she'll meet this chapter so keep readinggggggg!**

**Break This Spell666: I'm overflowing with happiness that you think her disability is believable. That's always what I worry about the most. And I hope you continue to root for her, I'll just mark you down for Team Suzume!**

**Juliedoo (your username is adorable): Ahaha! Your review is so nice, I'm undeserving~! But thanks a plenty! Gawrsh, getting told your fictional character is realistic is _the best _compliment a writer can get so thanks a million! All the character traits/aspects you mentioned are ones I've noticed (which is why I only read about 2 OHSHC fanfics). And I agree, there is no shame at all in wanting to be girly/feminine.**

* * *

I very much dislike wearing my hearing aid, that is no secret. But because these people are strangers—strangers with a lack of respect for personal space at that—I have to keep it on. Which is a challenge, seeing that no one in here seems capable of talking with an indoor voice, the twins and Tamaki especially.

My introductions to everyone were curt. In fact I barely got one at all what with the excitement over the "audacious commoner" and Tamaki deciding he would be the club's dog. It's fine by me though. I only plan on playing, not mingling with them. If I need to ask someone for something, I'd just ask Tamaki or Kyoya.

The Host Club officially opened about ten minutes ago. Most of the guests who had filed in by now had made appointments for Tamaki, and yet it's already so noisy.

"It's just coffee," I say under my breath, eyeing the group of mesmerized students.

I bend down and sweep the broken glass into the dustpan. _It's shocking how careless they can be for guys who claim to cater to every woman's needs. They could have a lawsuit on their hands with this laying around._

"Oh, Suzume-senpai, I could've got—ah!" Haruhi gets tackled by the twins before he can finish his sentence.

"Tono, you might want to take a look at this," call Hikaru and Kaoru.

Tamaki bounds across the room and squeezes between the orange-haired siblings. He holds up Haruhi's face and starts exclaiming orders to everyone else in the room, like to get contacts and an extra boy's uniform.

I guess someone's getting a makeover.

I walk in the direction of the garbage can when my foot kicks at something, sending it sliding a few steps away from me. I pick it up—a rectangular, plastic ID card.

_Fujioka Haruhi. First-year student. Female._

"I guess that explains the girly name," I mutter as I dump the glass in the trash. _And dangerously large eyes._

"I see you've found something interesting," Kyoya says from beside me.

I step back, wondering just when did he get there. I take a quick survey of his face and note that he lacks any sign of surprise. "Did you know all along?"

He smiles and his lenses glint over. _"Indeed," _I imagine him saying.

I look into the room. "Do they know?"

Kyoya actually answers, "Who's to say." _"No, I want to see how long it takes for them to figure it out."_

Meaning that I should do the same. It's not like anyone's getting hurt by the secrecy, so I may as well not interfere. I walk to the corner where my schoolbag and cello sit. I shove Haruhi's ID into one of the pockets.

"Suzu-chaaaan!" a boy thunders up to me. "Since Tama-chan didn't give you anything to do either, you can come eat cake with me, right?"

This boy…looks like he should be in grade school. It isn't just that he's short but he has the face and voice of a child to match. I wonder if he's some kind of prodigy.

"Suzu-chan?" he asks, looking less cheerful than when he first spoke.

"I'm sorry, what's your name again?"

He sways on his heels. "Everyone calls me Honey, so you can too!"

"Oh. Alright. Sure, let me just grab these and I'll come to your table."

It's not like I have anywhere else to sit.

"I'll be waiting, Suzu-chan!" He skips off in another direction.

_Suzu…-chan? That's a new one._

I lug my belongings toward Honey's table and almost get ran over by the twins dragging Haruhi to the dressing room in the process. She kicks them out right after.

_I wonder if they know now._

I sit down at Honey's table, and notice that Mori (75% sure that's his name) has also returned from whatever errand Tamaki made him run.

"Is it okay if I put my things here?" I ask the both of them. They nod in sync.

"You left in such a hurry yesterday that Takashi, Usa-chan, and I didn't get to say hi to you, Suzu-chan!" Honey cheers before shoving an entire slice of cake in his mouth.

I sit frozen with my mouth slightly agape, and watch as Mori hands him another. And then Honey eats it whole again. It is a marvel to watch him and, at the same time, incredibly horrifying. It's like seeing a snake swallow a mouse—except that snake is cuddly and adorable and oozing innocence.

Still horrifying, though.

I shake the thoughts from my head. "Uh, yeah. I was in a bad mood yesterday."

"You did look angry at Tama-chan. I think he felt kinda bad after." Honey spares a glance in Tamaki's direction and so do I. "Why were you in a bad mood? Did someone eat all of your cake? I know I would be in a bad mood if someone ate all my cake."

I turn my attention back to the small boy. He seems truly concerned about the possibility and I have to smile. He might be oddly obsessed with cake but at least his emotions are genuine.

"No. I'm just not used to being…" I gesture to the room. "Here."

Honey smiles back. "This is your first time at the Host Club?"

"Um, yes but that's not quite what I meant." Honey blinks as he waits for me to explain. "Yesterday was the first day I've ever attended school."

"So Suzu-chan was home schooled?" he asks with a fascinated expression.

Before I can even respond, Haruhi yells, "Mori-senpai! Help me!"

I'm not sure exactly what happens then. My guess is that some sort of instinct flicks on in his head, causing his face to change from indifferent to gravely serious. In a flash, Mori holds Haruhi in middair.

The scene is over as quickly as it began and Mori comes back to the chair where he sat before. I glance at him and see the pink shade in his cheeks before it fades soon after.

Honey giggles, "You figured it out, huh Takashi?"

"Aah."

_How many is that?_ I count the numbers off in my head, then turn to the only one left who doesn't know. _It doesn't surprise me at all._

More appointments have started walking in now; the tables have started filling up with poofy, yellow dressed girls.

"I should probably leave, since you guys are going to have guests." I ready myself to stand.

"But you haven't had cake yet, Suzu-chan!" Honey whines. He looks at the cake platter beside him, and when he sees that it's empty, tears rim the edges of his wide eyes. "I ate all of it! I'm so sorry, Suzu-chan!"

"Please don't cry!" I say, holding my hands up. "I-It's not a big deal. I'm not that hungry, anyway."

Mori pulls up a cart from nowhere and sets a plate on the table. Honey switches gears instantly, and actually takes a bite of his piece instead of downing it all. Mori turns to the cart again and sits a piece down before me along with a fork.

_I'm not full, nor am I hungry. But it's vanilla. I don't like vanilla that much. It's only a small piece, though. It won't be a big deal. But it's past 3 PM, which means dinner is only a couple hours away. Mother will ask why I'm not eating as much as I usually do. And if we're having fish for dinner, I definitely want to save room for that. God, I love fish._

My stomach growls just from thinking about it. I cross my arms to cover it up, and look to see if anyone heard. It's too loud in here for anyone far away to have noticed. Honey's too enamored by cake, and the two girls that joined us are too enamored by him to have noticed. That leaves…

I look to Mori. Our eyes meet.

I would understand if he were laughing or smiling but his face holds no readable expression. I'm usually okay with staring people in the eye, but it actually makes me uncomfortable meeting his blank stare.

Mori's gaze wanders to the plate in front of me, then back to my eyes. Oh yeah. He definitely heard. I can feel him silently judging me.

I turn away from him, and play it off by messing with my schoolbag. I take out my Music in History workbook and flip to the pages assigned for homework. If I have to wait until I'm told to play, I may as well be productive.

I glance at the cake again, then look at the assignment.

_Maybe I should do a reward system—for every question I know the answer to, I'll take a bite. There's nothing wrong with that. And if I eat the whole cake, that's a good thing. It means I know what I'm doing._

I nod to myself and grab a pencil.

_Question #1. In complete sentences, explain how Antonio Vivaldi's harmonic schemes and stylistic aspects influenced Johann Sebastian Bach's keyboard and orchestral works._

I put the workbook and pencil back in my bag, then grab the fork on the plate. Someone taps me on the shoulder. I sigh and look up to see a pair of violet eyes.

Tamaki tenses up. I watch him stutter: "I-I just came to ask y-you if you wanted to play now."

I glance back down to the cake. Put the fork on the plate. Slide it across the table to Honey. He's happy to see more cake, but frowns when he realizes that it's the piece I didn't eat. He asks me if something was wrong with it.

"No, I just have to play now. Maybe I can eat cake with you another day."

This performing thing is really a one time deal, so I feel bad for telling him a lie. If this counts as a lie. 'Maybe' implies there will be the possibility we'd eat cake together, which is true, and I also do need to play. So I didn't lie, just admitted to a murky truth.

He beams a smile at me, then chomps away at the slice. I nod to Mori and say, "Thank you." He nods back and I pick up my cello.

I follow Tamaki until he brings me to a chair in the center of the room. I thought I'd be in the background or off to the side, playing as an instrumental soundtrack for whatever it is that this club does.

"Why am I in the center?" I ask him.

Tamaki stops gathering people around us and answers, "How else would we enjoy the main act, my sweet cherry blossom?"

_I thought I told you to knock that off. _I roll my eyes as I sit down. I take my cello from the case and prop it between my legs. Afterward I take out the bow and look at the surrounding audience. _There are a lot more people in here than I thought._

"Play whatever your heart desires," Tamaki encourages.

I nod and start to tune it to the a song I know by heart—one of the first songs I ever learned. I inhale then exhale, and begin.

—

"Welcome home, young miss. I can take those to your room."

"Thank you, Hachirou. That'd be wonderful."

I hand him my belongings and he zooms down the hall, his coattails swishing behind him. My legs are longer than his but I can never manage to walk nearly as fast as he does. Trust me, I've challenged him to races in my head and have never ever won.

I slide off my shoes and go down the hall. _Mother should be home. Hopefully she's not busy._

I round a corner to see Aiko, one of our older maids, arranging flowers in a vase.

"It's good to see you up and running today. You scared us half to death yesterday." She pulls me in to a hug. "Shrink some, dear. You're much too tall."

"Well, I'm sorry I worried everyone. And I haven't grown one centimeter since we've been back," I laugh.

"But you did all your growing while you were away, which is mighty unfair if you ask me. You were up to my chest before then."

"I was also only ten years old then."

"Your point being?" She puts her hands on her hips.

"I guess I don't have one," I chuckle. My sass is no match for hers; she's had way more experience mastering the art form. I gesture toward the vase of flowers. "Where did these come from? They don't grow out front, do they?"

"No. One of the neighbors came by earlier today and dropped them off." She sniffs one. "Nothing beats the smell of tulips in the spring."

"Neighbors?" I ask as I sniff one, too. "I thought our neighbors stopped giving us housewarming gifts weeks ago."

"Yes, but apparently this poor woman lives in a house full of men. She was off visiting family and just got back a few days ago. Said her husband and boys know nothing about matters like these." Aiko looks slightly disturbed by what she's uttered and it widens my smile.

"I see. I'm sure my mother enjoyed meeting her. Speaking of which, do you know where she is? I'd just get lost if I try looking on my own."

Her head tilts up in thought. "I believe I saw her in the living room last."

"Alright. Thank you."

I scurry down the maze of halls and come to the living room.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S DEAD?"

No doubts about it. That is certainly my mother yelling at the television in her Japanese-accented English. I slide the door open.

She and the dogs turn their heads at the sound. The dogs dismiss me and continue eyeing whatever it is my mother's eating.

"Hello, sweetheart." She smiles and pats the empty cushion next to her. "Sit. I haven't seen you all day."

I fold my legs under me and watch the drama unfold on whatever soap opera she's started. Apparently Nathaniel's confronting Angelica on her affair with Jason.

"I didn't know we had American channels," I comment.

"Just this one. I made your father buy it a few days ago."

I look at her; she's wearing one of the yukatas she sleeps in. "Have you been watching these all day?"

"No. I only had morning lessons set up today." She grabs the remote and turns down the volume. "And is that judgment I here coming from my daughter who spent an entire two months stuck in her room, usually in pajamas might I add?"

Normally I'd throw some smart quip back at her, but I can't quite will myself to. Not with the day I've had. I lay my head on the table instead and sigh. I hear her set something down and click a button on the remote.

"Television's off. Now tell mother dearest what's wrong." She smoothes down some of my hair.

I move my head to eye her, but my gaze lands on what rests beside her on the table. "Is that Father's favorite red velvet cake ice cream?"

"You saw nothing," she states as she snaps the lid and slides it under the table. "And don't avoid the matter at hand. Did something happen at school?"

Even though I feel awfully guilty about Himura-san's leave of absence ordeal, I know telling my mother about it would be too much trouble. There was no proof I was the cause of it, that's just what everyone assumes. The more I thought about it as the day went on—about what Kyoya said at lunch—the more I realized that there was nothing I could do, and that he'd been right.

I can feel guilty (and believe me, I do) but it won't get her job back. The students can think what they want but that doesn't mean their words are true.

It takes two to tango, as people say, so even if the situation involved me, it wasn't _only me _at fault.

Kyoya's analytical voice echoes in my head: _…she had two strikes already, and you just happened to be the last…she should have thought about what her actions would cost her…_

But that wasn't the only part of the day that had gotten to me. The other tribulation was one I hadn't expressed to anyone at all, and one that certainly needs to be addressed with a fellow musician.

I smash my face into the table. "I can't play."

"I can't understand you like that, sweetheart. Sit up like a normal person."

I sit up and repeat myself. "I can't play." She automatically searches for any sign of injury, so I elaborate, "I can't play at school. They don't allow students on scholarship to play."

"That doesn't make any sense. You got a full scholarship, why wouldn't you play if you're _that _good?"

"That's what I thought. But the lady in the office said it was because I'm _too _good that I can't play."

Her face scrunches together, and I can practically see the gears grinding to make sense of the situation. "To be honest with you, that sounds like the best compliment a musician can ever get."

With a breath, I fall on my back. The tan wood ceiling stares down at me.

"It isn't that I'm not eternally grateful to the school and chairman for recognizing me as such—I _am _eternally grateful. But I can't shake this disappointed feeling off my back, and I don't understand why."

"Hmm."

'Hmm' is my mother's go-to phrase for when she's thinking something through, meaning that my feelings are a mystery and she's enlisting herself as a detective who can solve them. Not that I mind, I obviously don't know what's going on inside this right-side dominating brain of mine. If she's onto something, I want to hear it.

"You're home a little late today. Did you join the music club like you wanted?"

"No." I flip over on my stomach and scratch Aoi's side. "One of Kyoya's friends wanted to hear me play, so I did."

"So you didn't join the music club?"

"It doesn't start until second semester."

"Uh-huh."

I wait for her to ask more, but she doesn't. She just stares off into space with her hand raised to her chin and the other holding that one's elbow. This could only mean she's just about figured it out. _In just two questions, too. That's probably a new record._

"I think I've cracked the case." I nod to let her know I'm listening. "I don't think the problem is that you can't play at school. I mean, you can always play here. And it isn't like you were never taught by teachers, or me."

Her emerald eyes stare me straight in the face. "I think the problem is that you can't play with _kids your own age_."

"Kids…my own age?"

"Mm-hmm. All the teachers we hired for you were old. Our staff is a decade or so older than you. And although your father and I are goodies, we're oldies too."

She cringes at the thought and moves on. "You've been surrounded by older people your whole life. It's normal to want to be around others your age. How was it playing for Kyoya's friend?"

"It seemed like it went well. I mean, people clapped like usual but I didn't stay long enough after I performed to talk to someone about it."

"No, sweetheart. How did you _feel _afterward? Happy? Sad?"

"I think… No, I _know_ performing made me happy."

"Then you've got your answer."

We stare at each other for some time, then she breaks the eye contact with an innocent close-eyed smile.

"You're… You're not going to tell me the answer?"

"Sweetheart." She clicks on the television. "You're your own person. You figure it out."

* * *

**So it took me three times of watching the first episode to realize the way that Mori realizes Haruhi's a girl is by accidentally **_**groping **_**her… I feel so stupid.**

**Hopefully you're enjoying the Ootoris as a whole. I know I really love writing them. By the way, red velvet cake ice cream is the shizzle my nizzles. Try it sometime!**

**The title of this chapter is based off the poem "Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams. It's literally the most obscure thing you'll ever read, if you've never read it before. I'm overyjoyed everyone's liking the story so far n.n Thanks for taking the time to read this chapter~! You're all hella rad for it!**

**TTFN**


	5. Part It Like Moses

**BrokenSouloftheDarkness: YAAAAAAASS. OMG IT'S FANTASTIC! ICE CREAM POWER!**

**Juliedoo: Mrs. Ootori has a special place in my heart as well. Both of Suzume's parents are a bit kooky in their respective ways without being completely out there. In the comfort of their own home they can be who they truly are without worrying about snobby rich people judging them, you know?**

**Mori is quite the guy, isn't he? He's literally the definition of 'the total package' if you ask me. **

**Break This Spell626: It states in both the anime and manga that Kyoya knew all along Haruhi was a girl, though it never says how. I'm assuming, because she's a commoner and an incredibly intelligent one at that, Kyoya heard about her through the grapevine and it piqued his interest enough to run some background checks on her. Just a guess though.**

**winterdarknessXD: It means everything to me you think my story is worthy of a comment so thanks! And you rock even harder my friend!**

**Sayonara Yasashii Akumu: I hadn't even thought of that before you mentioned it, and now I can't stop seeing it! Looking at only Suzume's spoken words and actions definitely reminds me of precious Haruka O.O Instead of him saying, "I only swim free." all I can think is Suzume saying, "I only want to play." Why did you do this to me?!**

…**Maybe I should make a crossover? *_***

* * *

The maids wake me up earlier than usual. Of course I'm pissed about it, but not at them. I asked them last night if they could wake me up when they arrived in the morning—6:30 AM.

What I'm pissed at is the word 'morning' itself. Honestly, it disgusts me. I kind of want to punch it in the face, if it had one.

I sit upright and press my face into my palms. I get the feeling I'm being watched so I lay my hands in my lap and turn toward my door. The maid who woke me up turns as white as my sheets. She goes into a low bow instantaneously.

"I-It's alright. You don't have to do that," I try to tell her, but she bows repeatedly anyway.

I actually have to grab her by the shoulders to make her stop. Looking at her face, I can tell right away she is one of the half dozen new staff members my parents hired the other day. Otherwise I would recognize her.

"What's your name?"

"I-I-Izumi, young miss," her lips struggle to reply.

"Thank you for waking me, Izumi. You can go now."

I do my best to smile, but I also feel like shit so I'm not sure what expression it is that she sees. Either way she leaves me alone to attend to my morning rituals. I stumble in to the bathroom and stare at the mirror.

It's no wonder I scared her. With the off-white yukata I wore to bed and my bird's nest of a bedhead, I look like I just crawled out of a well and started murdering people.

_Note to self: don't wear pale clothing to bed._

When I'm done washing up and changing in to uniform, I lazily run a brush through my hair. I decide to leave it down, mostly because I can't find the energy to raise my arms above my head. But also because the only reasons I put it in a bun are 1) it gets in the way when I play and 2) it is scorching hot outside.

Currently, neither of those are happening. Why bother.

I grab my hearing aid off the dresser and take my schoolbag with me as I exit the room. I waddle in to the dining room and notice the chef has already set my breakfast on the table—waffles and orange juice.

Waffles are probably my second favorite food. I'd put fish and waffles together, but that only sounds good in theory. Scratch that—it doesn't sound good in theory, and probably tastes worse in reality.

_Note to self: never ever make a waffle-fish sandwich._

I put in my hearing aid after finishing breakfast. As the clock hits 7:00 AM I watch Kenta pull into the gravel driveway. I'll never understand how he times himself so perfectly and on the dot. It doesn't seem humanly possible, but he does it. Every single day.

"Good morning, young miss," he says as he holds open the door.

"Good morning, Kenta," I yawn back, rubbing the corner of my eye.

"I believe you're forgetting your cello again, young miss."

I shake my head. "I'm leaving it behind today. It turns out I don't get to play during the school day like I thought."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know how elated you were to begin playing with others."

I nod and slip in to the backseat. _How does everyone else know I want to play with other people? Is it written on my forehead? Am I wearing a sign?_

Yet Kenta and my mother have a point. I've never played with other musicians outside my own family, ruling out my mother herself. I don't count any of my music teachers as jamming buddies and I wouldn't say competing for a prize is the same as being apart of a group.

_How does that even feel? Is it livelier or more restricted? What kind of songs do you play?_

Mother would know. I'll ask her later.

I get the feeling I'm being watched so I turn my attention to Kenta in the front seat. Either I was wrong or he's too swift for me to catch him in the act. Most likely the latter.

"Sorry I called you to come get me so early," I say because I feel I should say something.

"Driving is my job. Do not apologize that I do it." I smile and nod. "Out of curiosity, may I ask why you wish to attend school this early? I don't remember you taking a liking to this time of day."

I sit back in the plush, leather seat. "I'm bad at this calculus stuff we're learning. It's only the third day and I'm already confused." _On schoolwork and more._

"Ah. Well, most would agree that learning mathematics does more harm than help." He eyes me from the rearview mirror, a bemused expression on his face.

"I think I would agree," I grumble. "It's like a plague. A numerical plague with the occasional letter."

Kenta's voice rumbles into a chuckle. I'm sure this is the reason I grew so fond of him. He gets my sense of humor to its full extent. My mother isn't the most delicate flower in the garden, but still. On top of that, she identifies herself as a lady. Not that I don't. I suppose I'm pretty ladylike myself, all because of how my parents raised me.

Then again, I've never really gotten the chance to get my hands dirty. I can surprise myself sometimes.

Anyway, I usually have to turn down my candid jokes when in my mother's company. She could handle sass, and boy do I deliver, but she could only handle so much of it. The real problem may be that she's just too literal, and tends to take things the wrong way; she'll frown and worry and scold me.

My father likes how I see things, a "pessimistic realist" is how he words it. I can never agree wholly on the matter. A realist, yes, but only because I refuse to play a fool like I see other girls do. Don't people say that knowledge is power? Why act dumb and marry rich when you can be clever and earn all those stacks yourself?

And a pessimist? Maybe things are _exactly _as bad as I view them.

We park in front of the main building. The door swings open and I slide out (pretty ungracefully for a lady), then thank Kenta for the ride. I amble through the doors and to the room where the senseis loiter around in when they're doing everything but their jobs.

Sensei Maki explains the dull, painstakingly tedious way to solve trigonometric functions (why there is trigonometry involved in calculus please don't ask, I'm just as confused as you are) and I eventually finish the assignment while in the library. Class would be starting soon, though I doubt the door to my homeroom would be unlocked yet.

I put my supplies away and feel a hard, plastic surface as my fingers slide inside a pocket. I pull the object out. It's Haruhi's school ID.

_I left the room so quickly yesterday I forgot to hand it to her._

I read over the black print on the card. Haruhi's a first year so I should check the first year classrooms. Wait, didn't I just say it's too early for them to be open? Eh, I'll check just to be sure.

Sure enough I had guessed right. The first door I try doesn't budge. That leaves one other option: waiting outside until I spot her.

I rest against one of the marble pillars that border the campus entrance. It may be early but students are steadily entering the school. I'm sure if I had waited another five minutes the senseis would come along and unlock the doors to their rooms.

But I don't want to wait. What if Haruhi needs her ID for something? Don't they ask for them in the halls? Can't you put money on it like a debit card?

_Calm down, would you? It's just an ID. It's not like you can ruin her life by having it._

Not like I ruined Himura-san's. Maybe. Probably. Most likely. I don't know.

But Haruhi is a commoner, isn't she? No no, don't call her that. She is a normal-class citizen. Either way, what if she put a lot of money on this card? Oh my God, what if this is her life savings or something? Wait. That doesn't make any sense. It isn't a _real _debit card. If she's bright enough to earn an honors scholarship, surely she knows not to do something as irresponsible as that.

I'm worrying myself in to a panic. Thankfully, it is short-lived because I spot those doe brown eyes in a heartbeat. I honestly think she should get them checked out—that's how big they are. They might be a health hazard for all she knows.

I maneuver through the herd to reach her. I can feel the looks boring in to my back and sides and everything as people pass. There's a cluster of girls surrounding something and I almost hover past. The something they are fixated on just happens to be the "boy" I'm looking for.

She smiles at one of her many admirers then notices me fidgeting behind them. "Good morning, Suzume-senpai. How are you?"

With those words, she unintentionally parts the yellow-dressed, giggling sea like Moses. They eye me too, some of them clearly glaring. Though that doesn't mean they affect me any differently.

"Good morning, Haruhi. I'm fine, and yourself?"

"I'm okay. What brings you over here?"

I'd been holding her ID between my palms this entire time. Just as I move to hand it over, a thought enters my mind. Everyone thinks she's a he. I'm not sure what her views are on the matter and if she'd care if everyone found out but wasn't her being a boy part of the deal? If she's a boy, she's in the Host Club. If she's in the Host Club, she can pay off the debt for the vase.

I gently grab her hand and press the ID in to it. The shrieking from the standbys is instantaneous.

"I found your ID yesterday and I forgot to give it you."

Haruhi blinks and gazes down at the card. I glance toward her fans and see they're too dazed to even realize what's going on. In fact, they probably can't even see us because their eyes have turned into actual sparkles the size of Haruhi's own eyes.

"Thanks, Suzume-senpai." Haruhi tilts her head and smiles, winding up the witnesses even more. "You're a life saver."

I give a faint smile in return. "Sure. I hope I didn't inconvenience you at all."

"To be honest," she rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, "I hadn't even noticed it went missing. But you saved me the trouble of going to buy a new one." She mumbles the last bit, "I'm sure that would've cost a fortune."

_She hadn't noticed… I didn't ruin her life, but if I had she wouldn't have noticed._

I tried being discreet simply because I figured she didn't want anyone to see she was a girl and now she tells me she didn't notice her ID went missing. I could have given it to her anytime. I could have avoided all this noise.

"Are you alright, Suzume-senpai? You're pretty pale."

Before I can even utter a reply, hasty footsteps and a resonating, "Haruhi~!" fill the air around us.

_No no no no no._

I can't run. I can't will my legs to move so much as a centimeter in the opposite direction. I can't even pick my hand up and flick the switch of my hearing aid. I previously planned that the goal of the day is to keep it on the entire time and it seems like it is staying that way, much to my chagrin.

Tamaki bounces up to us, Kyoya trailing behind. But then I spot the rest of their little club following along too.

"And Suzume-chan!" Tamaki squeals, much like his fans. He wags a finger at me. "You know it was quite rude the way you left so suddenly yesterday. None of us got to compliment you on the splendid performance you gave!"

I stop massaging my temples for a moment and look at him. Splendid? The song I played was a pretty simple piece. It was one I had to learn when I first started, one that had been ingrained in my mind because of how many times I had to rehearse it. It was in no way splendid.

Tamaki just has a flare for the dramatic. He must be over-exaggerating. Still, I feel a lightness squeeze my chest, then remind it not to go to my head.

My eyes meet the identical pairs of the twins. They are so unbearably close our noses are almost touching. "May I help you two?" I ask weakly. It was supposed to be snide, but a growing migraine is weakening my sass abilities to zero.

Hikaru and Kaoru (I just know names, not who is who) grab strands of my hair. Simultaneously they ponder, "What shampoo and conditioner do you use?"

Ignoring them wouldn't make them leave me alone; I know from watching Haruhi try to fend them off. "I don't know… Whatever the maids buy."

"Call your maids immediately."

"We need to know the brand ASAP."

They continue to comb their fingers through my locks and murmur comments to each other. I'm guessing they're compliments since they won't leave it alone.

"Hey there, Suzu-chan~!" Honey greets while waving the floppy-eared, pink bunny in my face.

"H-hello, Honey."

He snuggles the stuffed animal to his chest and giggles. "No, silly, that was Usa-chan that said hi to you, not me. But hi, Suzu-chan~!"

"Oh. Okay. Hi."

There is an entire ring of people around us now. Mostly girls galore, but I easily spot the well-groomed heads of some male students peeking over the females to get a glimpse inside.

"Usa-chan and I think you look really cute with your hair like that! What about you, Takashi?" Honey looks up to his skyscraper of a counterpart, who happens to be looking down at me.

"Ah."

Really, that's it? Whatever. It's not like I care.

"Are you going to play the cello for the Host Club again, Suzu-chan? Because it was really pretty yesterday! I'm sure everyone would love to hear it again!"

I feel like he's trying to butter me up, trying to get me as intoxicatingly sweet and carbo-loaded as the cake he eats nonstop. And, believe it or not, it's kind of working. If there is one thing I will take compliments about, it is how well I can play.

That's why the scholarship to Ouran means as much as it does to me, because it was one gigantic compliment to my skill—skill I was pretty unaware I possessed. My parents and our staff told me I was good but that's an older people habit. They must always coddle the young as encouragement.

Obviously it worked on me. I guess Honey somehow sensed this and decided to use it against me; perhaps the cake-obsessed side was just as much an act as Tamaki's princely side. Or perhaps he hadn't noticed one bit and was actually being genuine about yesterday's performance. I'll remain undecided on the matter.

"I don't think so, Honey."

He pouts and bats his eyelashes innocuously. "Aww! Why not? Everyone thought you were great."

"Everyone thought I was…" _No, don't get caught in the riptide of compliments._ I glance to Mori, wondering if maybe he'll mumble something less monotonous but nothing comes except the stone-faced stare. "I don't believe I'm going to play for the Host Club again."

"Well, at least say you'll drop by to eat cake with me! We never got the chance to, remember~?" Hope twinkles in his caramel eyes and, just like yesterday, I hate to burst his bubblegum bubble.

"Um."

I look away and notice the twins have wandered off, leaving my hair to rest near my waist like usual. The reason I hadn't pulled away from the two was because I figured they would have a grip so tight they might rip my hair from my skull. But now that I see them busying their hands with a disgruntled Haruhi and steaming Tamaki I know I have the chance to escape.

"I'll see you both later."

I turn from the duo and to the crowd on my left. They seem too infatuated to see me standing in front of them, so I say as firmly and loudly as I can: "Excuse me."

Astoundingly, that snaps them out of the daze and just like Haruhi had the crowd parts to make an escape for me. It folds back in after I make it out and glancing over my shoulder, all I can spot is the exceptionally tall frame of Mori.

—

Tamaki has been glancing at me all day. Not in the manner he was yesterday, not the puppy-dog-pout-I'm-sorry kind of glancing. He keeps looking at me like he wants to ask me something, but is conflicted on whether he should do so. I'm sure Kyoya knows what it is and, as usual, doesn't bother to include himself in Tamaki's nonsensical antics.

He hasn't seemed to realize I know he's sneaking glimpses at me because I keep trying to ignore him, in the addition that he's so caught up in trying to be sneaky that he's being about as obvious as you can get.

So in the middle of third hour, while the wonders of physics rage on, I stare at the back of his head and wait for him to turn back around. And he does about two seconds later, then concludes to spazz out in his seat. How no one else notices is a miracle.

I'll admit it though, it's a bit amusing to watch him fumble through situations like this. He makes everything ten times weirder and more uncomfortable than they need to be, and he does it like an expert.

I face forward, but out of the corner of my eye notice a slip of paper slide on to my desk. I peer at it, then at Tamaki; his stupidly blank stare meets mine.

I pick up the folded paper and hand it back to him, whispering: "You dropped this."

Tamaki throws a glance to the sensei and shakes his head wildly. He gives me a hand gesture that I'm assuming means to open it. _Ohhhh, he wasn't littering on my desk—it's a note._

"_**Do you know about 'it'?"**_

My forehead creases, trying to determine exactly what he means. _**"What is 'it'?"**_

He writes back vigorously: _**"You know… 'IT'?"**_

_Honestly, how is he capable of having a conversation verbally? Probably all those metaphors and similes he throws around. __**"That you're a weirdo? Yes I do."**_

He turns to me with tears in his eyes after reading it and I shrug in response. I can tell he's trying to word whatever question he has next carefully by how many times he erases, and then the melodramatic sobbing that follows when he rips the paper from the continuous act.

Later, rather than sooner, I receive the sheet again and read, _**"Do you like Haruhi?"**_

That's what this is about? That whole scene this morning probably started up a rumor or two, maybe even thirty-seven knowing how excitable the students here are. But as I reread the previous questions leading up to this one, the assumption of dating rumors seems out of place.

What else was he talking about? If not dating then…oh yeah. Even if I liked Haruhi in that way, she's a girl. Is that it?

I scribble down a reply that answers both possibilities. _**"She's nice."**_

He stiffens from just one glance at my words, and when he cranes his neck at me he wears the most heinous face, one even a mother would shiver at.

* * *

**I'm ecstatic you guys are liking Suzume so far, along with her very odd interactions with the Host Club. This chapter's kind of filler-y, like the aftermath of things that were caused by Suzume performing. But the story's still trudging along!**

**This chapter's title was inspired by the saying, "Bend it like Beckham" (at least I think that's the saying) so yeah! If you haven't noticed I really like creative titles. Maybe a little too much.**

**Thanks for all your support guys! Every little thing you do pumps me to write more and more~!**

**TTFN**


	6. Thnks Fr Th Chclt

**Enigmaticrose64: First of all, I want to commend you on posting reviews back to back. I'm assuming it means you found the chapters interesting enough to read in the same span of time _and_ decide to comment on them individually?**

**Anyway, I didn't know there were home sets of chopsticks. I take all my knowledge from animes I've seen and some research I've done (but I have crap memory, and I didn't think to look up chopsticks haha) yet I want to thank you for correcting me. I'd like to be as accurate as possible so if I'm wrong again in the future, please don't hesitate to correct me. I encourage it!**

* * *

"Um."

"Yessum?" Chef Ren says over his shoulder.

"I could've done it."

"Probably, but why dirty those pretty little hands of yours when I can do it for you?" He winks at me.

I roll my eyes and breathe out, "They're just waffles. I know how to work the waffle iron, too."

"This is true," is all he gives as a reply.

I mutter, "I hate when you guys do this to me." I stand from my chair and ask him: "Is it okay if I go change out of this uniform?"

He fake gags when he looks at me. "Please do, so I can slice it to shreds and burn it in the oven. And the waffles should be done by the time you get back."

I laugh and head to my room. I slip on some sweats and a t-shirt with a faded aquarium logo on it. When I arrive in the kitchen my waffles are done just as Ren promised and I light up when I see he's added chocolate chips to them. I coat the stack in a layer of syrup.

"How are they?" Ren watches me stuff half of one in my mouth.

"So much better than I would've made," I coo. "Compliments to the chef."

He takes a dramatic bow and I clap as his one person audience. Ren then grins and asks, "Should I make a couple more or are you okay 'til dinner?"

"I'll wait until dinner, thanks."

He nods, and opens the fridge to grab the milk carton. Ren pours it in a tall glass and places it next to my plate. "Can I ask why you had the sudden fix for 'em?"

I nod. "I skipped lunch."

Ren gasps, a slightly serious expression crossing his features, "You're not trying one of those fad diets, are you? 'Cause, darlin', I will tell you right now they do not work."

"No, no." I put down the fork and lean back in my chair. "I was just trying to avoid an issue and I didn't know any other way how to." I gulp down some milk.

"An issue, huh?" He smirks deviously. "Lemme take one guess: a boy?"

I slow my chewing to think about it. _I guess you could say that. But it's more like six boys. Or no, five boys, a child, and a girl._

"You paused! I must be right!" Ren claps his hands together and gushes, "Fantastic! The household's little lady is in love! Tell me _everything_ about him!"

I chug the rest of the milk and scoot from my chair. "Sorry. Can't hear you. Thanks for the waffles."

From my peripheral view, I notice him stiffen but shake it off. "Denial's the first stage, you know!" he yells as I shut the door.

Pretty sure that's grief, not love. And even then I think that's still the wrong order.

I slide my bedroom door closed and just stand in place, looking at my furniture and possessions. I can't think of what I should do, nor what I'm feeling. What else can I do? Eventually I walk to the middle of my floor and sit. But even that doesn't do me any good.

I crawl to my nightstand and pull the square platter from under it. I pick out a mason jar that reads, _**Lemon and Mint Leaves**_. _Not a very creative title but hey, I'm named after a bird and you don't see me flapping my wings._

I strike a match and pull the candle up to its flame. Blow out the match. Wait for the wax to melt. Pull my hearing aid out in the meantime. Okay…I smell the mint but where's the lemon?

I pick up the jar and glare at the label. "You are a liar." I set it back on the floor and hold my head between my palms.

Somehow I had managed to avoid the Host Club the rest of the school day. Well, actually it wasn't that difficult. Tamaki and Kyoya are the only ones I have to see most of the day, which means that it was mostly Tamaki I had to dodge.

During hourly breaks, girls formed a wall around both Tamaki and Kyoya. I was grateful to them, ironically enough. They made it pretty easy to get by until the next sensei came in and class began.

If, by some chance, there was a free moment, I'd ask to go to the bathroom or offer to run an errand for the sensei.

At lunch, I told the nurse I had a migraine and took a nap in the infirmary. This wasn't just a ploy—coming to school early had tuckered me out. Add the incident with the Host Club and still attracting attention from other students (probably even more because of the stupid club) into the boiling pot and you've got absolutely everything I did not want my high school experience to be.

The nap had helped but by the end of the day I was just as tired as I was on my first day. I was one of the first people out the door, not bothering to tell either Kyoya or Tamaki goodbye.

The latter had made it evident he wanted to speak to me about something, that I know for sure. But I was also trying to make it obvious I didn't want to hear it. Whether it be about my performance or Haruhi, I just don't want to hear it.

I had been right to label him troublesome but I never thought it'd reach this degree. It probably wouldn't have, if not for the other hosts adding to it.

I couldn't go through the trouble of having to go another round with the Host Club. I might fare a one-on-one battle but certainly not anything like what happened earlier today.

I blow out the candle and catch a whiff of lemons everywhere. I pop the lid back on and mumble, "I guess you're not a liar. Sorry I said that."

I stand and go to my door, clamping my fingers around the wood. Pacing outside it is my mother. I can't help but quiver, feeling the déjà vu of the earlier incident coming back to me.

"Hi," I wave.

She smiles nervously. "Hi, sweetheart."

I sign, "Is something wrong?"

"No. I came in earlier to talk to you but you didn't hear me." I part my lips to apologize but she waves her hands and continues. "I saw you lit one of your thinking candles so I just thought I'd wait for you to finish outside."

_Thinking candles? Do I do that so often that they're called that? _I dismiss the thought and go back to my original question. "Is something wrong?"

She looks at me expectantly, visibly waiting for me to say or sign something. I'm sure this would be an awkward silence if I could hear it. So I give her a look that matches her own quizzical expression.

"There's nothing you want to tell me about?" She smiles innocently. "About…I don't know…school?"

_Does she know about the Himura-san thing? Is that what she's talking about? _I shake my head. _I won't tell her unless she actually brings it up._

"Are you sure?" I nod and watch her lips purse. "Nothing's bothering you?"

"Why?" _Does it show? Did you notice?_

"Because of the candles. Something is on your mind." She glances to the floor, "You don't want to talk about it?"

_Oh. So she doesn't know anything, just jumping to conclusions. Guess I should probably say something since she won't let up. _"Just some people at school. Kyoya's friends."

She gives a comprehensive nod. "Are they treating you well?" This was Father's question of bullying but with my mother's subtle touch.

I smile just to assure her. "Yes. They're just odd. I don't quite know how to feel about them."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." She smiles gleefully, and swipes some of my bangs out of my eyes. "They'd be idiots not to like you."

_They're idiots whether they like me or not._

—

It is at the point where I've started punching random numbers in my calculator, utterly bored out of my mind from mathematical formulas here and solving x there, that a maid's head peeks through an opening in my door.

I wave to her. She smiles before saying, "Your cousin's here to see you, young miss."

My first reaction is to believe I've misread her lips. Cousin? My mother's family travels in herds, not just one at a time. They also wouldn't be here to just see me, so…one of my father's relatives?

I crawl off my bed and grab my hearing aid, then trail behind the maid until coming to the door.

My lip reading skills remain precise. Kyoya stands beside my mother on the front entrance mats. I do my best to hide a confused frown and wait for someone to tell me what he's doing here.

My mother says, "He brought us this! Isn't it a lovely gift?"

She raises the gift basket to me. Through the clear wrapping I spot some fancy fruit, smelly cheese and…gourmet chocolate? I notice a small tag hanging from the handle reading, _**From Us at the Host Club**_. Glad to know they don't mess around with their gift baskets.

I hand it back to my mother. Kyoya catches my attention with a smile, one that looks like it's practiced. "I just dropped by to have a chat with Suzume. I hope I'm not intruding."

_Calculus or talking to Kyoya?_

My mother replies before I can weigh the pros and cons of each choice. "Of course not, Kyoya. You're always welcome in our home. We're family!" She pats him on the shoulder and turns to me. "Why don't you show Kyoya to the living room?"

I sign to her, "Save me the chocolate." She nods and waltzes down a hall.

I turn back to Kyoya, jut my head for him to follow me, and head toward the living room as per suggestion. I purposely walk in front of him just so I don't have to look at him critique and judge everything we pass. I'm sure that's what he's doing. That's a very Ootori thing _to _do.

We come to the living room and I gesture to a cushion across the table from me. He accepts the offer and ever so properly folds his legs under him. I opt to take a more relaxing, cross-legged position, and sit my elbows on the table while holding my chin in my hands.

"I must say Uncle Sousuke picked out a stunning estate. I had no clue he fancied traditional architecture," he says, glancing around.

It's a bit weird hearing him refer to my father as "uncle". With us being away in America for so long and so secluded from the rest of the Ootoris, I forgot how it sounds.

"Yeah, the old house was much different."

"I remember. I'm faintly familiar with this area as well."

"That's nice."

I wasn't going to act like I care. Maybe that strums the wrong chord within his little symphony of polite small talk but I don't care. And it doesn't show on his face that he cares. No Ootori visits—bearing gifts at that—to talk about architecture and neighborhood acquaintance. He wants something from me. He won't say it outright, but I'm not stupid.

The gift basket said it all, in fact. He may not be here on family business, not here as Ootori Kyoya, third son of the Ootori patriarch but he's definitely here as Ootori Kyoya, member of Ouran's Host Club.

He removes his glasses and cleans the lenses with a handkerchief. "I'm assuming you're curious as to why I made this visit, yes?"

"You would be correct."

He eyes his frames with more fascination than he's ever given me. "That gift basket I gave your mother is from the Host Club, but I'm guessing you already know that."

_If you "guess" things you're already certain about then why do you keep asking? _"Right again. But why does the Host Club need to give me a gift basket?"

"Technically, it wasn't a club decision. More of a Suoh Tamaki pleading for attention and assistance decision." He finally puts his glasses back on and folds his hands on the table like he's in a conference call.

"I'm…not sure what you mean by that."

"You are aware that he was trying to get your attention the entire day, aren't you?"

Kyoya's usually impervious to Tamaki's rambling, but I can tell his annoyance is trickling through. Since I had ignored the two all day, I'd guess that Tamaki had to mouth off to someone. And he must have really done Kyoya in if it's come to Kyoya bearing his emotions to me of all people.

"I'm aware. But I was ignoring him."

"Yes, I noticed. And if you must know, the basket is a thank you for your performance yesterday."

I was going to say that I'd offered to play so it wasn't necessary to waste money, but what if he'd take it back? I really wanted that gourmet chocolate. "Thank you."

"Of course."

We're at a standstill. I don't particularly want to speak to him, he probably doesn't want to be here. But he came with some kind of purpose, so I doubt he'd leave unless we got down to it.

Which means I'll have to trace over the topic I so meticulously tried to avoid. "Why was he trying to get my attention?"

"Ah. That's the reason I'm here." His glasses shine in view of the light overhead. "It's come to our attention that you know about Haruhi's…position."

I quirk an eyebrow. "You say that as if you didn't already know." My accusation holds no reaction, so I move on. "I'm not going to tell everyone, if that's what you're worried about."

"Quite the contrary," he replies coolly. "I've made enough observations to know you wouldn't do as such. And if you would, then I would simply pass Haruhi's debt on to you, since that is the reason her gender must remain a secret."

"So," I conclude, stretching the 'o', "why are you here if you're not trying to keep me quiet?"

He smiles, and I assume it's because of my blunt curiosity. Perhaps people never talk to him in such a manner because he silently dictates that kind of respect. Perhaps my honesty is to his liking. Who knows. Who cares.

"Are you oblivious to the audience you've created for yourself, Suzume?"

"What does that mean?"

"The Host Club, the President specifically, would like to request that you drop by to perform occasionally. It seems he's taken quite a liking to you, as well as some other club members. The fact that you know Haruhi's true identity emphasizes that we should keep you around."

My vision trails from his face down to the table. Was this…was this my answer? I wanted to play at school and I couldn't. I could play at home but that wasn't satisfying anymore. I can't play _with _others, so what about playing _for _others?

…_I know performing made me happy…_

But was it really performing for the Host Club that gave me joy? I always feel good when I play, that's _why _I play. I like it.

"What do I get out of this?"

He's taken aback, but it wares off immediately after. Kyoya is a businessman in a teen's body; he would grasp that when you do something, the last of your reasons should be doing it for naught. He should grasp that better than anyone at Ouran because that's our family motto. I wouldn't be surprised if someone's got it sewed on a pillow.

"Of course you will have access to any host you request while you are present."

_If that's all he's got then he may as well have not said anything._

"But I presume that will not take well with you, seeing as your preference differs from our usual crowd," he says as if reading my mind. "The real question is: what do you want out of this? Money perhaps?"

_No, Kyoya, I'm not like that. _But for curiosity's sake, I ponder, "Isn't it a school sponsored club?" I certainly don't expect the club members to pay out of their pockets for me to play. I doubt they care that much.

"We make a small profit from certain fees our customers pay, along with merchandise they purchase." He wears a poker face all the while, until I see the muscles clench in his neck as he adds, "We usually use that profit to restock supplies, Honey's cakes, etcetera. But I'm sure I could find a way to cut you a share."

"I don't want money."

His neck muscles relax. "Then it seems we're back where we started."

Let's see. Boy are there a wide variety of choices. Of course none of them are things I truly desire because I don't want objects. The company of "the hosts" meant that they'd have to put on their little show for me, right? I don't want that either. And though Kyoya's family consisted of the main branch, my parents are still well off. He didn't need to bribe me with anything I can't ask for myself.

All in all, Kyoya has _nothing _to offer me. I wonder if he's aware of this. I wonder how it would strike him to learn that he has nothing up for grabs and that I'm not jumping out of my pants to play for his club, either.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It _is _a school night, Suzume." _"Speed it along. You're wasting my time."_

I smile and shrug. "It's not like my parents won't offer you dinner and a warm bed." _"No need to be an ass."_

"Would you like to wait on your compensation?" He raises a lone, raven brow.

"No, I think I have an idea."

And I do. Because now I've placed it—what I want from my cousin, Ootori Kyoya. That simple, silent conversation we just had, it gave way to an idea. Although he's given me little to gripe over thus far, Kyoya still has the Ootori way of life ingrained within himself. He's roundabout and is a boy with tricks among tricks up his sleeves.

What could I do to make him honest? What could I do to show his true colors?

"I need you to answer one question."

He leans in, and I see that it isn't bewilderment or shock on his face. He's intrigued, and I have to question what it was that he imagined I was going to pull out of my ass and ask for. Did he really think me as that shallow, or was everyone else he's bargained with so shallow that his bar had been lowered so significantly?

"Answer this and I'll play for your club." I pause to wait for any sign of…well, anything but as I've stated before, see nothing. "Why are you friends with Suoh Tamaki?"

His head tilts from shock. Kyoya leans back, arms folding over his chest, and stares at me. All I can do is smile, genuinely proud of myself for thinking of it so quickly. Kyoya stares off at the space on the left of the room; I'm glad he's actually taking the time to think it over.

"Honestly, he's an idiot. A complete fool. Reckless and careless to everything around him. I think all of this every time I'm near him."

Our gazes catch on one another. I can't place that look in his eyes or what's hiding behind that smirk of his. And maybe that's because there isn't anything behind it, perhaps it's just there. I stay silent, knowing he isn't finished.

"But he's pulling you in, isn't he?" "_He's pulling you in just like he did to me. And if I couldn't resist, what makes you think you can?"_

Leave it to a businessman to turn the situation around on you. But it was all the answer I need. He turned it around so he wouldn't have to get so deep, to protect himself. He didn't quite answer, he didn't quite evade the question. At the same time, he could have easily said, "I'm only friends with him because I want blahblahblah from him," or, "My father wants us to be friends so we are."

But he didn't, did he?

Instead he settled with calling Tamaki an idiot, one idiot out of thousands of candidates. One idiot that managed to catch Kyoya's interest.

"Did I pass your test?" he questions, the bored stare he always gives me planted on his face.

I shrug, "It's not like there was a wrong answer." His eyes bore into me so I add, "Unless you would have lied."

Which he hadn't. In his own cryptic way, Kyoya had been honest. Tamaki honestly was an idiot.

"What makes you so sure?"

We stand simultaneously. "Woman's intuition."

Kyoya's glasses flash over so I can't see the look in his eyes, but he does give his trademark smile. I hope it gives him satisfaction to know I don't know what's causing the expression—either he knew all along that lying was the wrong answer or that he's impressed with me. I'll probably never know.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He holds out his hand to shake and I do.

We leave the living room and one of the maids greets us while wandering the halls. "Can you please show Kyoya out?" She complies and I thank her.

"Thanks for the chocolate," I say. I swear I could've seen that cunning smile of his one more time as he passes me, but simply turn my back on it and head toward my room.

* * *

**The conversation between Kyoya and Suzume is my favorite scene so far. I hope for them to have more interactions like these in the future. They both are fluent in hidden-meaning language (as I've so creatively named it) so it's really fun to write their conversations with one another.**

**The title was inspired by the song, "Thnks Fr Th Mmrs" by Fall Out Boy (fantastic song and band) and I just thought it was too good to pass up. Hopefully a few of you got it, most of you probably think I'm illiterate ahaha ^.^**

**Thanks for taking the time to read and review/fav/follow! You guys are honestly the best at it. No one can do it better than you guys can!**

**TTFN**

**P.S.—School has started back up again and I'm already wishing I wasn't a functional part of society! I've got some classes that take a lot out of me so I don't get to write as often as I'd like to. Please understand if my updates take a while. I wish I could write for hours on end but that's not the case. Thanks again for reading!**


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